


Outside Looking In

by lindsey_grissom



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-09-25
Updated: 2009-09-25
Packaged: 2017-10-10 14:53:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/100986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lindsey_grissom/pseuds/lindsey_grissom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>The white frosting behind the panes is slowly stripping away, tiny flecks that stuck to her skin and his the first christmas they tried to make it special at home</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Outside Looking In

**Author's Note:**

> Written simply because of a conversation with [multicolour](http://archiveofourown.org/users/deserts/works) and the mis-spelling of "ship!porn". By the time I had finished preempting her pervy little mind with corrections and denials, it was too late and this had already started writing itself in my head. The lesson learnt here? It's too easy to porn inanimate structural objects.

The glass is cold against her skin, slippery where her fingers glid over it, droplets wet against her as the heat of her spreads out across it. The old sign creaks above her head, the wind shaking against it in time with her harsh breaths and it's almost like the sound her bed would make in the farmhouse, when he would rock against her, pounding her into the matress and the bed into the wall.

Another gust sends a ripple through the window, rattling it against her hand. And that could be the feel of his groan as she came around him for the first time, body tensing, contracting and shaking them both.

There's no life in the building, only the pulse beating through her that almost sounds like coming down on his chest, heart thumping to a satisfied beat.

The white frosting behind the panes is slowly stripping away, tiny flecks that stuck to her skin and his the first christmas they tried to make it special at home. It needs a second coat here. Theirs needed a third, to hide the shapes of his hands against the panels and then the echo of her back as she moved with him. 

She presses her face hard to the glass and lets the heat drain away like a cold November morning with ice creams in the park that led to his hands under her dress and her thighs around his waist

Slowly she pulls back, eyes glazing as she sees him in the reflection that's not there, not with the light of the lamp-post shining against her back. Not with the years between them. She steps to the curb and runs her eyes across the fading frames and cracked brick work, seeing steady hands pounding nails and setting bricks, feeling the whisper of hot hands at her chest and warm breath on her neck

Tomorrow it's market day and she'll walk through the town with the sun on her head and never look once at the little shop on the corner, with its faded signs and frosted panes. She won't see his smile in the warped woodwork or the green of his eyes in the damp moss. She won't look because tomorrow the magic will be gone. 

But for tonight, just for tonight, she lets his shop have all of her because with one sharp thrust and thousands of gentle touches, he owned her after all.

 

**End.**


End file.
